


Bitter Wine, Honey Sweet

by aliatori



Series: This Too Is Sacred [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XV, Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey
Genre: Bedtime Stories, Flirting, Fluff, Multi, Political Parties, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 23:28:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17949221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliatori/pseuds/aliatori
Summary: Gladiolus and Lunafreya attend a political function as hosted by Noctis.A side story forThis Too Is Sacred





	Bitter Wine, Honey Sweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Xylianna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xylianna/gifts).



> Happy birthday, brainshare. Your friendship is an even greater than the world of Sacred we share together. <3

Gladiolus nó Balm was no stranger to fêtes, public, private, or otherwise. He was also no stranger to the constant political machinations that served as a backdrop to D’Angeline society. Though affairs were conducted in a more seemly fashion than they were in the days of old—it had been decades upon decades since the last incident of high treason—Terre d’Ange was still full to the brim of those vying for power, status, wealth, or some combination of all three.

What Gladiolus _wasn’t_ used to seeing was Noctis Lucis de la Courcel, heir to the throne of Terre d’Ange, playing an active part in the game.

Even if he’d disliked Noctis—which he didn’t, especially not after the connection they’d shared during their recent assignation—Gladiolus wouldn’t dare have dreamed of declining the invitation to the Palace for a fête. He _had_ expected it to be more typical of Noctis’s usual gatherings, full to the brim of adepts, with wine freely flowing, the Gaming Hall bustling with activity, and perhaps entertainment of a more intimate sort to follow, should the Dauphin choose.

Instead, Gladiolus had just enjoyed an exquisite but subdued dinner with a plethora of Terre d’Ange nobility as company. In fact, the only adepts among the group were himself and Lunafreya no Cereus, presumably because of their standing as peers instead of their role as Naamah’s servants. Aside from a kiss of greeting stolen upon arrival, Gladiolus hadn’t had much of an opportunity to converse with the Dauphin, his attention otherwise engaged by other lords and ladies demanding his time. At one point when the rather persistent Lady Corinne of House Mereliot insisted, over and over, that tariffs finally be raised this year for goods being imported through the port city of Marsilikos, Gladiolus thought Noctis would have been within his rights to set the tablecloth on fire.

But he didn’t.

He handled the situation with far more tact than Gladiolus would have guessed prior to this evening, his deep sapphire eyes betraying no hint of irritation. Had Gladiolus not spent years in service to Balm house, trained to observe even the most minute sign of tension in his patrons, he may not have even noticed the faint hint of white around Noctis’s knuckles where he gripped his goblet of wine, the only tell that anything was amiss at all.

Now, milling about the salon with the other assembled peerage after dinner, the soft sounds of a flutist delicately piping through the room, Gladiolus watched as Noctis greeted a group of what must be Shahrizai cousins, judging from the same night black hair and porcelain skin the three shared.

“It’s as though they’re all cut from the same bolt of Kushiel’s cloth, is it not?” Lunafreya’s melodious voice drew Gladiolus from his idle musings. 

“You worded it more eloquently than I would have, but yeah, you’re right,” Gladiolus agreed, bending down to give Lunafreya the kiss of greeting, smiling into it when he felt Lunafreya lift herself up on her toes to better reach. “Long time, no see.”

Lunafreya’s answering smile was as serene and lovely as the canon of her House. Gladiolus allowed himself a moment… alright, several moments…. to appreciate her intricate gown of pale gold silk, its hue so pale it might be mistaken as cream at a glance, a beautiful contrast to her flawless alabaster skin. Her eyes, their blue so rich and lovely that they seemed more like one of Prompto’s pigments than gifts bestowed by the grace of Elua, locked to Gladiolus’s.

“It has been quite a long time,” Lunafreya agreed pleasantly, lifting a goblet of wine to her lips. “I fear there is often more work to be done than hours of daylight to do it in.”

“It doesn’t need to be daylight to pay me a visit, Lunafreya,” Gladiolus said, a slow smile spreading across his own face.

Her laughter was one of the first genuine sounds Gladiolus had heard all evening. “You have a fair point there. Far be it from me to neglect the most profitable hours for two members of the Court of Night Blooming Flowers.”

“It was a pleasant surprise to see you here. No Nyx tonight?”

“He is otherwise occupied this evening. Speaking of notable absences, I wondered at the lack of a certain Caerdicci advisor.” Lunafreya’s carefully neutral expression was belied by an impish twinkle in her remarkable eyes.

“And here they say Cereus adepts are above gossip,” Gladiolus rumbled, drawing another delicate laugh from Lunafreya.

“Perhaps it’s the D’Aiglemort side that’s prone to gossip,” Lunafreya suggested innocently.

“Whichever the case may be, I really don’t know where Ignis is tonight. I mean, I have my suspicions, but then… y’know, confidentiality.” From what Gladiolus knew, he thought Ignis would quite enjoy this responsible, princely side of Noctis they were being treated to, but if Gladiolus’s guess about the fête being for peers only was correct, he wouldn’t have been invited.

Or maybe he wasn’t invited for other reasons, reasons to do more with Elua than politics. Reasons the two of them would have to figure out on their own.

“Ah, I see. Might I be correct in assuming you’ll be returning to Balm House alone afterwards?” Lunafreya rested one tiny hand on Gladiolus’s woad-covered forearm, the feather-light touch igniting a spark at the base of of his spine. “I could accompany you, since you expressed concern about my absence.”

Gladiolus’s laugh rumbled through his chest as he grinned in answer, slow and warm. “I _am_ free, and you know you’re always welcome in my quarters at Balm, Lunafreya nó Cereus.” 

She withdrew her hand and smiled back at him, the expression wreathed in the dainty grace of Naamah herself. “Hold that thought for later, if you please. Our host approaches,” Lunafreya said. Her expression brightened noticeably, and when Gladiolus followed her gaze, he saw Noctis crossing the salon in their direction, tossing his single silken braid of hair over his shoulder.

“Elua’s balls, I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll make it through the rest of the night alive,” Noctis said under his breath once he was within earshot. To his credit, he wore the same, fixed smile that he’d worn for a large portion of the evening, equal parts bland and polite.

“And a good evening to you too, Highness,” Gladiolus said with a snort. He leaned in and placed his lips softly against Noctis’s ear before adding, “you’ve got a lot of sucking up to nobles to do before you can complain to me.”

The sharpness in Noctis’ gaze was like the dull side of a knife gliding against his skin—full of the _promise_ of threat without any of the damage. Still, Noctis was breathtaking in the opposite way that Lunafreya was, like the dusk compared to dawn. Although Gladiolus had seen him wear some version of the black calfskin trousers and midnight blue Courcel tunic before, it suited Noctis so well that he felt his heart swell with the pleasure of beholding him, the clothing perfectly accenting his gorgeous features and colouring. His _bearing_ tonight was different, sterner, more regal as opposed to the indulgent, flirtatious Dauphin he’d come to know by reputation and personal experience.

“I don’t know how you both do this all the time,” Noctis admitted, long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, they were sharpened by resolute intent. “I should get back to it before Lord Somerville threatens to resign his seat in Parliament, _again_ , but I wanted to ask if either of you had any other plans after the fête.”

Gladiolus turned towards Lunafreya and found her gaze already waiting for his own. Somehow, without words, he knew their thoughts traveled along the same path. In the Night Court, there was a game new, young, and eager adepts would play called _Vin Amer et Miel Sucré._ Part dare, part practice, part competition, it often involved trading the sweeter gifts of Naamah for the drudgery of shared House living. Though their calling to Naamah was a sacred one, holy in many aspects, part of their calling involved a natural amount of exploration as mortal children of Elua.

“That depends…” Gladiolus began with a smirk.

“Gladiolus and I were just discussing the fête and our plans afterwards. We could be persuaded to stay, I believe...” Lunafreya continued.

“... _if_ you can make it through the rest of the night as the perfect picture of the Dauphin of Terre d’Ange,” Gladiolus finished.

Noctis smirked, languid and indolent, like a cat after lapping up a bowl of cream.

“Oh, I will. You can count on it.”

* * *

True to Noctis’s word, he did, and true to Gladiolus and Lunafreya’s word, they stayed, ushered up to the Dauphin’s luxurious quarters and parted from their layers of expensive silk and velvet with merely a quirk of Noctis’s rosebud lips.

Gladiolus had never felt shame or inferiority in the presence of full blooded D’Angelines. That night, however, he reveled in sheer magnitude of Noctis and Lunafreya’s beauty, in the wonderful, obvious nature of the divine blood they carried in their veins. Gladiolus considered himself an active lover—after all, the very nature of Balm House discouraged idle hands—but he found the sight of their union rendered him awestruck. If Noctis was the nighttime sky, and Lunafreya was the brilliant sun, then their lovemaking was as sunrise, the point where the two extremes blossomed into a brand new day. Gladiolus watched Lunafreya’s features soften in bliss as Noctis joined with her, hair of black and gold blending together on silken sheets; the sight caused desire to course through his blood, his pulse beating as sure and steady as the wings of a dove.

He could have watched forever.

‘Forever’ lasted until Lunafreya’s soft, delicate hands skimmed up Gladio’s thighs, growing ever closer to the aching length between them—until Noctis captured his lips in a demanding, urgent, spectacular kiss at the same time. He was drawn into them as easily as he had been drawn into Naamah’s temple, when he took those first steps towards dedicating himself to Her service, and it felt just as right.

Later… _much_ later, Gladiolus lay between the pair of them, spent and sated in a way only the Longest Night could compare to. Had this been an assignation, he would be finding a way to make a graceful exit, but since Noctis hadn’t asked either adept to leave, he was strangely content. Noctis rested against his side, curled under his arm, curtains of his unbound hair spilling across Gladiolus’s chest. Lunafreya lay on the other side, her head pillowed on his chest, surprisingly familiar and intimate for a Cereus adept.

Then again, perhaps Gladiolus shouldn’t be surprised. After all, he had been friends with Lunafreya for quite some time, and he and Noctis had shared the spark of something _more_. That spark, Gladiolus thought, had now expanded in the space between all three of them, bright and brilliant.

“Do you know any good stories?” Noctis’s voice, though quiet and blurred by sleep, startled Gladiolus. He’d thought the Dauphin fast asleep.

“I know a few. Dunno if you’d think they’re any good.”

“I’m certain any story you’d tell would be wonderful,” Lunafreya added in her own gentle, dulcet tones.

“What she said,” Noctis agreed, shifting to slot his body more firmly against Gladiolus’s.

Gladiolus smiled as he picked one from his memory, an old, treasured favourite of his, first told to him by an Ollamh on one of his rare visits to Alban shores.

“There was once a girl by the name of Sorcha, the youngest of seven children, with six older brothers she loved dearly. With their father grief-stricken at the loss of their mother when Sorcha was born, her brothers all but raised her…”

He realized he had begun the story in Cruithne—his native language was best for telling tales—but noticed just as quickly that the language didn’t matter. Before he’d finished the introduction to the tale, both Noctis and Lunafreya were asleep, bracketing him in comforting warmth.

It didn’t take much longer until the even, rhythmic sounds of their breathing led Gladiolus to slumber’s kind embrace. He hoped, with his last conscious thought before sleep claimed him in earnest, that the same delightful magic that had suffused their evening would still be there come morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Could be read to take place after CH 18 of This Too Is Sacred, if you wanted. (;
> 
> Gladio's story is the start of the synopsis of Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier. A fantastic read!
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated if you enjoyed. <3 Come find me over on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/AliatoriEra) to chat.


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